


Instict and Learning

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: CQC as foreplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9027499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: Teach me, he’d asked.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amara_dulcis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amara_dulcis/gifts).



> for wish #91 "BB decides to refine Ocelot's cqc technique; a sparring session that leads to a way more intimate session in bed (or anywhere else)"

_Teach me_ , he’d asked when he’d seen him doing pushups in the small room they used as a gym. His hair was already dark and sticking to his face, sweat beading in his beard.

John had taught him. He was good at teaching; he was a natural leader much more than he was a soldier. Pushed and prodded and flipped him over without actually hurting, careful to show every step of his fluid movements so Ocelot could learn them.

They both lost their shirts an hour in, but didn’t stop, even when sweat made their bodies slippery and harder to grip, not even when John’s musky animal smell was almost too much for him to bear.

Ocelot just couldn’t call it quits. John looked like he was having so much _fun_ , his blue eye glittering and his white teeth flashing. It was harder and harder for him to have fun these days, the stuffy four walls of their headquarters stifling for a man of action like him.

And besides, it was hot as hell.

He was fairly sure John let him topple him over, but he did not look a gift horse in the mouth. He did, however, very pointedly look at John’s soft mouth as he laughed when his ass hit the mat.

His hands were big and hot on his thighs as he straddled him. His cock through the fatigues already half hard.

 _Looks like I’m learning_ , he said in his hear, reveling in the shiver that’d run through him. John’s hand was like a vice on the back of his head when he claimed his lips, rough and hungry.

Ocelot wasn’t the only one learning many good things about the human body these days.

John’s kiss tasted sweet like the smoke of his cigar, and tangy with the blood he drew nibbling his lip. His thick calloused fingers slotted in the bruises on Ocelot’s hips that hadn’t quite faded yet.

 _Teach me_ , growled John into his skin.

Ocelot hesitated, heart fluttering annoyingly in his chest. Sometimes, he could not anticipate his words. John was, sometimes, the only person he could not read like an open book.

 _All I know is hurting_ , kissed John on the underside of his chin. _Teach me to make you feel good._

Ocelot didn’t mind the hurting. He _loved_ being sore and marked and bitten, fully John's with every twinge and scratch.

But he could never tell him no, and he was starting to get the feeling that he would never be able to.

He took his hands, and John let him. It was exhilarating, pure unrestrained power at his fingertips, willing, his to do what he wanted.

He dragged his rough palms up his stomach, his chest, his neck. John looked at him as if he could not believe what he was seeing, even though he saw him every day.

 _Just follow my lead_ , he whispered, rolling his hips, dragging a shaking breath from John’s still bloody lips.

And John followed. Touched him as softly as he could, ran his fingers in his growing hair, kissed him over and over until his eye was blown and dark, only a sliver of blue lining a hungry void. He tried to follow when Ocelot stood, but Ocelot stopped him, booted foot on his chest, pushed him back down gently and took off his pants and shoes.

John watched, hungrily. He watched, almost shaking with the need to touch, as he straddled him again, dragged his bare hands over his chest, scars over scars. Held him as he lowered himself on him, kissed his fingertips as he moved slowly, groaned deep and ragged as Ocelot took his sweet time, grinding him down leisurely.

Ocelot felt like he was biting more than he could chew, and loved it. John always made him feel that way, like he was the only person who could keep up with him and even take one on him and it drove Ocelot _crazy_. He was so bored before he met him.

He had never been bored since that day in Rassvet.

His orgasm was sweet and slow like sickening molasses, ropes of white painting John’s chest, right across the scar he gave himself for the sake of his - their mother.

 _Come_ , he breathed, and John did, because he listened to him even when it would have been wise not to, so why not now? He came with a grunt and a whimper, biting his lip, squeezing his thighs, filling him.

They didn’t speak as they lay together on the now filthy gym mats, John’s incredible body warmth making Ocelot drowsy like a cat in a sunbeam. They didn’t need to say anything they hadn’t already said with their bodies.

All in all, it had been a good day of learning for all involved.

 

 


End file.
